Gay Wolves Fucking

Story by vowels on SoFurry

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To think I have thumbs, four

extra digits upon each hand.

So much skin. Shoes stamp

stray leaves, scale sidewalks

where once was green, flatten

trails through the underbrush.

I search for stories outside

of building levels, hunting

for humanity in the clawed.

Each sole: too sensitive to adjoin

this aging earth, rough, scarred

like a palm blessed with many life-

lines. I watch them as I walk,

wondering when my legs will cease

their steady intervals like a wind-

beaten branch against a window,

eying its grasping shadow

the way we watch each other up

and down streets, saying "excuse me"

or not, brushing past in crowds

tight as a swarm of wildebeests.

But we are no longer animals.

Your lines press mine in a shake,

split-second as a sting.

We'll know each other by grip,

curve of our lips, the depth

of a laugh, sincerity of goodbye.

And I may explain life

as a military brat, where in town

to order the best moo goo gai pan,

my name, how long ago I outgrew

counting age with these hands.

May risk twisting a cute girl

lilting by into our conversation,

deciphering the orientation

of your response; scrambling mine.

To you I am at face value. Human.

Even as these hands find home

along the row asdfghjkl;'

inhabit, my mind wandering,

wondering about a new skin, a new

way to touch, discovering

its illicitness like the curves

and imperfections of first love.

To think myself other than human.

I am typing with these hands:

a vignette about two wolves,

same sex, almost human, fucking

as we do, all fur and fang and paw,

instinct swirling with their breaths,

with every thrust, the eventual tie,

all the nature I could want

burgeoning as fast as these fingers,

these thumbs, can fly.